


it’s a secret (that we can still light up our hearts)

by Kaiosea



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Reunions, Timeskip, gen - Freeform, mild alcohol consumption, very pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiosea/pseuds/Kaiosea
Summary: They haven't reunited in years, but it's space that brings them back together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kpopolymfics2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2017) collection. 



> This fic was written for K-Pop Olymfics 2017. Olymfics is a challenge in which participants write fics based on prompt sets and compete against other teams of writers, organized by genre. 
> 
> This is **Team Future** ’s fic for the following prompt set:  
>  **WJSN – "Secret"**  
> [lyrics](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2016/08/cosmic-girls-ujusonyeo-secret-bimiliya) | [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uJxJ7tSi1w) | [supplementary](https://www.flickr.com/photos/carinaauroraphotography/30417190764/in/pool-if-you-leave/) [prompts](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/olymficsmod/37777224/1726/1726_900.jpg)
> 
> The other 2 fics for this prompt set can be found in [the collection](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2017). Competition winners are chosen by the readers, so please rate this fic using [this survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1LbxQkkDrkVk9WIBj2iXwpY0q0sj5h95Crmo5nR5U8_A/viewform?edit_requested=true)!
> 
>  **Notes** I chose to use the MV and lyrics and [second](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/olymficsmod/37777224/1726/1726_900.jpg) supplementary prompt as inspiration for this fic! I glossed over their military time. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who helped make this fic FINALLY happen!

“You didn’t have to come,” said Woohyun, once they were through the red carpet and sitting down at their table. 

It was a truly rare occurrence that they’d been invited here, as Infinite, an idol group who hadn’t been spotted together in public in over a decade; something between a coincidence and a cruel trick. There was a host of younger, fresher groups that the event could have chosen, but they went with Infinite: Something about how a group whose tagline was once “One Great Step” was the perfect choice to present the ribbon of the new national center for space travel. It must have been as much a publicity stunt as anything else; space travel was a far thought for most people, whose lives were on the ground. 

Seven places were set. They filled only half of them; Sungyeol wondered if the others would show up. 

Myungsoo scoffed and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, rumpling the shape of his elegant suit. 

“Sungjong and I needed to,” said Sungyeol. “Our jobs are in media, and a wise careerist never turns down a networking opportunity.”

“Yes, that’s right! I’ve seen your talk show with Sungjong. It’s funny, isn’t it?” 

“Not entertaining enough to get you to ever appear as a guest.” Sungjong said, appearing with cold drinks in hand. Two of them: one for himself, one for Sungyeol. 

Woohyun grinned, showing all his teeth. “I have a very busy schedule. Idolhood, you know, and all.”

“We know,” Sungjong said. He was looking at his nails. “Although even Myungsoo phones in sometimes.”

Woohyun thumbed through a very fancy pale blue menu card. “Isn’t this great, we’re having fish.” 

“I don’t like fish,” Myungsoo complained. Woohyun patted him on the back. 

“You can have my soup,” Sungyeol blurted. He froze and noticed Myungsoo tensing up as well. Of course that was something they used to do, sharing food.

“Thanks,” Myungsoo said quickly. 

“Shall we?” Woohyun said, lifting his beer bottle for a salute. 

Myungsoo said quietly, “Everyone isn’t here yet.” 

“Maybe the others will be no-shows,” Sungyeol said, trying on a grin. If they only had to deal with Myungsoo and Woohyun, then he and Sungjong would be fine. 

“Well, they RSVP’d. They should show up,” Woohyun said, smiling alike. 

“Right,” Sungyeol said sourly, and Woohyun stopped smiling; Sungyeol felt it happen more than he saw it. He had forgotten that he was able to have that effect on him. 

Sungjong lifted his champagne glass in a placating toast and Sungyeol felt grateful. They all clinked and chugged. 

Well, Sungyeol chugged. Sungjong mostly sipped. He sipped everything, even beer. 

“At least you can count on them to not skimp on the alcohol front, right?” 

Myungsoo chuckled. “What else would bring us here?” He tipped his head back and swallowed. 

It was odd to hear his voice again. There was something that just didn’t translate through the miracle of electronics, even though Myungsoo was on the television, not to mention the big screen, far more than Sungyeol appeared these days. Avoiding Myungsoo’s perfect visage would have been a difficult task, walking down the streets of the city. 

Still, Sungyeol had managed somehow: to block out reminders of things he no longer had, until he didn’t miss them anymore, until he didn’t think about them anymore. “Yeah. I know.” 

 

 

Sunggyu had cut his contract first, choosing not to renew immediately after hearing that Woollim had no intentions to a) offer him more solo opportunities or b) give him more creative control. He had assumed the rest of them would follow suit. 

And Hoya did. He let them know of his non-renewal next, explaining his rationale in a lengthy email, overwrought and clinical. Unlike Sunggyu, he added that he wasn’t going to wait for them. He could move on on his own, if needed. None of them doubted it was true. He came the closest to being versatile: acting, singing, dancing, variety. 

But the rest of them were slow to pick up their feet and take action. Sunggyu tried talking to Myungsoo, and Sungyeol had overheard them whispering to each other at 3am some nights, because Myungsoo wouldn’t say what he was deciding. Dongwoo, too, was undecided. The company was something that they knew and some of them cherished. 

No one came to argue with Sungyeol or Sungjong. 

The funny thing was, Sungyeol _had_ thought they would all follow Sunggyu. Sungyeol liked planning capers and studying acting and goofing off on the internet, and Sunggyu liked organizing things and grouching about money, but he kept them together. 

That was when the first big fight had happened. Petty complaints from years prior came flying out, and some of them played on old insecurities like a piano, forcing out noise in the form of yelling and tears. 

“We have a choice,” Sunggyu was saying. “We could be really great.” They could stay with the company, earning decreasingly less amounts of money for staying young, innocuous and 80s-flavored. Or they could cut a new path on their own: unlimited solo ventures! Complete artistic control! New sub-groups!

Woohyun was the strongest advocate for staying with what they had, at least he was the one who expressed it most out loud. Sunggyu, then, said that they wouldn’t survive as a group if they couldn’t have Woohyun’s exuberance and his voice and his relationship with Sunggyu, which was a very nice thing to say but also put a lot of pressure and guilt on Woohyun. 

In fact, they probably could have managed with six members, while Woohyun took off allegedly “temporarily” as a solo artist—except that a week later, Myungsoo told them that he was going to renew his own contract, kicking off their second group fight. 

After that the arguing was all-consuming. 

 

 

Woohyun said, “Look who it is.” 

Sungyeol’s jaw dropped. That was definitely Dongwoo approaching their table, although he had long hair and seemed to have gotten shorter, though that was a trick of memory. They wouldn’t start shrinking for another few decades. 

Dongwoo pulled out a chair and sat down as if he hadn’t disappeared off the radar for the last ten years. He threw back his head and laughed openly. Sungyeol didn’t know what he’d been doing, only that it wasn’t anything in the media, and probably not in Seoul either; Dongwoo had stayed out of most of the fights, after the fateful first one, but then he stayed out of everything else too. 

His hair looked terrific and he was probably going to have ten dates by the end of the night.

Out of nowhere, Hoya was there too. Right next to Sungyeol. 

“Sup,” said Hoya. His face came with its own familiar sense of youth and weariness, add a few wrinkles. He didn’t really look at anyone besides Sungyeol and Woohyun, but he especially avoided eye contact with Dongwoo. 

And then Sunggyu came, which killed all possibilities of faking normal conversation. 

Sungyeol could still remember the fights they’d had, with Myungsoo seeking Sunggyu’s help as Hoya attempted to argue him out of his decision, only to find Sunggyu rebounding even more harshly against him and Sungjong refusing to take a side. Sungyeol didn’t remember picking a side himself, as he mostly just wanted them to stay together since he knew he had no singing career without the rest of them, but he remembered yelling at everyone in turn since some days it seemed like Woohyun would capitulate, or Myungsoo would change his decision, and sometimes it seemed like Sunggyu was going to cave. 

They sat there in silence now. Sungyeol texted Sungjong annoyed emojis on his smart phone, while Sungjong texted Sungyeol back (and probably 15 other people). 

Sunggyu drank his beer calmly, with no regard for the atmosphere. 

Sooner than Sungyeol was ready, one of the event assistants was beckoning them up to the stage. They made the short trek up there, their hair coiffed and smiles pristine. 

“In honor of the new space center and a milestone in the landings of our nation’s astronauts on the Moon, please welcome… Infinite!” 

They made a group effort to bloom as soon as their feet hit the platform stage. They stood, smiled and waved. They sang, but they didn’t dance. 

Sungyeol grinned and clapped as the red ribbon was cut in ceremony with triumphant music, a few astronauts in full gear joining them on stage as well. 

The irony was that the space center was not yet complete; construction delays, as per usual, had put it behind schedule. It would be finished in one month.

These were so many grand gestures, full of empty meaning. 

Sungjong pinched his waist, right near his rib, and Sungyeol turned his smile back on. Sungjong winked. 

 

 

Afterwards, they moved to the afterparty tent. There were giant fans blowing, the sides of the tent rippling with a continuous breeze; women held their skirts down occasionally, and it was alternately cool and warm.

There was something sweet flavoring the air. It was Myungsoo’s old cologne, and Sungjong’s familiar strawberry shampoo smell, and the breeze swaying between all of them. 

They made light conversation, as if the change of venue had broken the air, or their smiles had instigated something real. They took food back to their tables and started the process of catching up. 

It was an imitation of something close to nostalgia, and Sungyeol liked it, but he didn’t know if he wanted it, if he wanted to take that chance. 

 

 

“I’m a failure,” Sungyeol had told his mom. He’d gone back home after the band unofficially “broke up.” Even thinking about those words gave him pains.

“No, you’re not,” his mom said. 

Sungyeol gathered the right words in his head so he could say it altogether, taking perverse pleasure in being aware of his own downtrodden situation. “I’m thirty, jobless, single, with no motivation to improve my life prospects because of the money saved up, but that will run out eventually and I’ll be thirty, jobless, single, with no money.” _And I just figured out that I’m bisexual_ , he added to his secret list of woes. He didn’t feel like telling anyone yet. 

He felt like crying. 

His mom comforted him for a while until the urge to cry dried up, and then she offered a suggestion. “Why don’t you talk to your friend Sungjong? He’s been quite popular on the networks, with his little radio show.” 

Now he was upset again. “I can’t do that. That would be like…” He didn’t feel like finishing the sentence. “It would be like, I mean, he’s younger than I am.”

Did he even want to be famous anymore? What if he fell in love with a guy? He couldn’t imagine hiding a romantic relationship on live television. He knew people who had done both; he wouldn’t be the first, but he didn’t want to be another one. 

Reminders of things that he didn’t and couldn’t have flickered behind his eyelids, at lit up nerve pathways in his mind. Things he had thought about when he was twenty and hadn’t thought about since, like having his own talk show, or a house, or kids. 

“You should call him and see what happens.” 

Sungjong had been so cool on the phone. Sungyeol hated calling but thought that asking for a job was too desperate of a move to happen through text. And Sungjong said yes so, so quickly, like he didn’t have to think about it. 

They knew from the start that the partnership would work due to mutual necessity. Sungjong had a talk show, but it wasn't doing well; he had an extensive list of contacts, but he didn’t know how to leverage them. Sungyeol had no job, but he was willing to do anything to get—and then keep—this one. 

Over the years they’d moved up in stages, from a weekly radio show to a bi-weekly one, to an in-person sketch as announcers, always making connections, always working, until they got an offer for their own talk show. They made a unique combination, Sungyeol acting outrageous and talkative, and Sungjong, cool and skeptical. 

They had their fights but ended up closer friends. They’d even moved in together, and gotten a dog. The dog wasn’t very in-character for them, but neither was their partnership. 

 

 

Things got easier after that point in the night. The sun going down brought a new kind of mood, and the alcohol helped. There was an elegant mixed drink called Moondust that the bartenders were serving like water, and it was silver and shimmery with bubbles on top. Sungyeol couldn’t stop drinking it. 

They caught up. Everyone already knew about Sungyeol and Sungjong’s talk show, and Woohyun’s career as a solo pop idol: he’d taken the circuit of the industry as a ballad singer, and found consistent work in drama OSTs. But Sunggyu had gone underground into the indie rock scene. Hoya was a consultant for entertainment companies, preparing dances, detailed reports, audits, and anything else that they wanted from him to make their groups successful, all the while releasing his own self-produced albums every couple years or so. He never hit the charts, but he had a loyal following. Sungyeol couldn’t tell if he sounded happy about the consulting thing or not. 

They were shocked to find out that Dongwoo was a carpenter. 

Sunggyu and Dongwoo were talking, Sungyeol couldn’t quite make out what about, but Sunggyu was getting more agitated. There was an unfortunate pause that let through a bit of conversation for the rest of them to hear: 

“Because _he_ wanted to stay the same kind of idol,” Sunggyu said, and their table got very quiet. 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Woohyun said. They knew it was him that Sunggyu referred to. 

“Yes, go ahead.” Sungjong said. 

“Well,” Woohyun said. “I have an explanation for that time. It’s probably because I was a coward.” 

“You weren’t,” Myungsoo said. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“I was afraid of change,” Woohyun continued, and Sungyeol felt his hands clench into fists. Sungjong had stopped breathing. 

“You guys…” Dongwoo started, and everyone got very quiet. “This is why I disappeared. It was just making me sad to be around you.” 

“Yes, but when things got sad, _you_ ran way.” 

Sungyeol turned his head in surprise. Myungsoo was talking very quickly. 

“You weren’t there for any of it. And I tried to find you, but you didn’t want any of that. You missed my _wedding_.” He sounded more sad than angry. 

Sungyeol’s chest hurt. Some of what Woohyun had been about to say, he could guess at. He’s been afraid himself, and maybe nine years ago, he’d want to have heard him keep talking. But he looked around the table and listened to Dongwoo say, sadly, “I’m sorry,” and shake his head and reach out to hug Myungsoo, who only crumpled a little bit. There weren’t that many things he needed from them anymore, Sungyeol realized, but realizing the things that he _wanted_ from them now was different. Probably valuable to figure out. 

Hoya said something—Sungyeol couldn’t even register what it was, but it singed his tired nerves and he felt his blood pressure boil up all over again. 

The air held and caught for another second, and Sungyeol snarled, “Don’t say that about Sungjong,” registering Sungjong’s nails digging into his thigh too late, Sungjong saying “He didn’t mean it that way, it’s fine.” He was going to start what he finished. 

Hoya stood up. “Sungyeol. C’mon.”

“Huh?”

“Gonna buy you a drink. Let’s go.”

Sungyeol debated standing up, but then Hoya pulled the age gap card out of his ass and he ended up following. 

“What do you want.” Hoya tipped the bartender for 

Sungyeol stammered, even though he rarely stammered these days, not with being a host. They were out of Moonlight. “A—a brandy.” 

“That’s what Sungjong used to like,” Hoya commented. “Fancy, foreign alcohol.” Sungyeol suddenly didn’t feel thirsty at all, but he accepted the glass when it came and took a large sip. 

“Yeah,” Sungyeol said. “He does.” 

“So how long has it been like that for you?” Hoya directly his gaze upwards. “With Sungjong?” 

“Uh?” Sungyeol said. His brain shorted out temporarily. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think he stepped in to defend you?”

“Because I was right. And you _were_ insulting him indirectly.”

“Does that sound like Sungjong at all?”

“What would you know, you haven’t been around for years.” 

Sungyeol wasn’t jealous of Hoya. He and Sungjong had been the closest in the group, but it wasn’t that way anymore. Sungjong used to talk about Hoya when they got drunk after work, but he’d stopped doing that entirely, and Sungyeol couldn’t remember since when. 

Hoya smiled. His fangs were dulled. “You know him better than I do.”

“Probably,” said Sungyeol. He took another gulp. 

“We’re still at an age where you can do something rash,” said Hoya, and promptly left Sungyeol standing alone and open-mouthed at the bar. 

 

 

The table was moderately loud when he got back thirty seconds after Hoya, like everyone had already resolved their conflicts. Hoya was looking very pleased with himself. They were a group brought together by chance from the very moment of their formation, and Sungyeol thought that maybe, they were doing as well as they could be. Their circumstances chose then, but they chose as well, to take their own paths but also to gather here again tonight— _they chose._

Sungjong dumped fake cream into his coffee and stirred until it was light beige. There was a dessert shaped like moon rocks in the center of each table now, and Sungyeol took a handful and shoved them in his mouth. They crackled around his gums. 

“Slow down,” Sungjong said. 

It had been a favor, in the end, that Sungjong had done for him. Sungyeol knew he had paid it off again and again, in times that he’d saved them from a bad business deal, or debased himself with ridiculous publicity stunts that Sungjong’s image was too cool to do, or defended him from the press after a fake scandal “leaked.” Yet he still felt the urge to do things for him, to fiercely protect what they’d built together. 

“The moon brings things into perspective for some people,” said Dongwoo, always the philosopher. He smiled at Myungsoo. “At night, it lights up your secrets.” 

They finished dessert with cold ice cream, basking in their lack of responsibility for the night. A few people had wanted their autographs, mostly from Woohyun and Myungsoo, but overall they hadn’t been bothered much. And that was strange, Sungyeol realized. They’d rarely been able to hang out in public without being swarmed. It was nice to be somewhat obsolete, or at least a different kind of popular. 

Over the loudspeakers, a new song came on and all of them flinched and wow, the DJ must have been playing a trick on them. 

“It’s 2012 all over again, isn’t it?”

“Was that our peak year, or was it 2013?”

“Forgot.”

“Who cares.”

“It’s one great step returns, returns.” That was Sunggyu. 

“Let’s do this!” 

Hoya’s face finally managed a smile and he took Dongwoo’s hands to get out of his seat. It wasn't an apology, but it was getting closer. They were the first ones out, looking crisp as their smart suits bent to accommodate the shapes of their bodies, the old dance. 

The rest of them, too, cheered and ditched their chairs for the dance floor. If some of them rolled their eyes along with their sleeves, if their reflexes weren’t as sharp and their bones more weary, and if the seven of them were now at 9% synchronization, not 99%, they were perfectly fine with that. 

It would all be fine. For the time being, Sungyeol was going to dance along to “The Chaser” as Hoya and Dongwoo retaught them the movement that was still engraved in his mind. 

Sungyeol looked at Sungjong, his upturned, pretty face flicking in and out of definition in time with the strobe lights as he concentrated on the breakdown. He thought, in a year or two, maybe they could host their own party.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to fill out the [survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1LbxQkkDrkVk9WIBj2iXwpY0q0sj5h95Crmo5nR5U8_A/viewform?edit_requested=true) for this fic, and thanks for reading!


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